July 5th – From Ogley Junction footbridge, long range shots of rabbits in the rain, grazing on the long grass beside the canal basin and just doing their thing.They look healthy and no sign of the Myxomatosis that ravaged the warren at the back of the Terrace last year. The scruffiness in their coats appears to be just where they’re wet from the rain.
A pleasure to watch, and so enthralling I completely forgot it was raining.
July 5th – An odd day involving a fair few errands. I set out early afternoon, hoping to miss the rain. I didn’t.
I had to nip to Chasetown, and as ever, the High Street looked great, but the sky, even when sunny, was threatening and grey. I was caught out both on the outward journey, and on my return.
It was warm enough though, and bare legs dry quickly. Let’s hope next weekend is a little more temperate.
July 4th – Independence day, but sadly not from work. To my annoyance, called in on a fool’s errand at 12 noon, my plans for R&R were scuppered. However, taking the slow way back to Walsall, my weariness was cleared by the bright sun, azure sky and pleasant atmosphere.
Walsall has many faults and far too many detractors, but it’s not a bad old place.
July 3rd – I was wiped out. I’d had to sit on the floor all the way back from London, and my back was aching, and I hadn’t eaten enough – but New Street, for all it’s faults, welcomed me home with it’s hard surfaces and contrasting lights; and 30 minutes later, a real Late Night Feelings moment at Walsall.
Home is where the heart and teapot are. Oh, that first mug of tea!
July 3rd – As readers who follow me elsewhere will know, I have been extremely busy with work and other stuff in the last few weeks. Today was no exception and very heavy: I had an 2pm afternoon meeting near Eastbourne to attend, so I handballed my bike on the train, rode across London Village from Euston to Victoria, arrived at my destination – Polegate – and then took advantage of a great traffic free trail to arrive bang on time.
In the early evening I returned, again crossing London, and got home near midnight.
I loved cycling in London – around Trafalgar Square, down the Mall – and I understand a lot more why the city has such a notorious cycling reputation: If you leave 3″ of space, there’s either a tourist, a taxi or a cement truck in there. You have to be assertive, attentive, and dare I say it aggressive.
But what a blast.
I have spent most of the weekend after knackered. Maybe I’m getting to old for this shit…
July 2nd – I cycled home in steady, warm rain – but the temperature had dropped like a stone. Coming out of work where the temperature indoors was still 35 degrees, stepping into the cold, fresh air was like entering a plunge pool.
The air smelled fresh though, and although the traffic was mad the ride was fast and fun. Hopping on to the canal at the Black Cock and over to Ogley Junction, a light mist was rising off the canal surface, indicating a surface-air inversion was on. Just as I got to Catshill, the rain ceased, and the sun started to come out.
Although it was dull, the greens – now entering the mature, darker stage – looked magnificent. But the panorama from Catshill Bridge: they seem to be taking forever to complete those flats.
July 2nd – In Darlaston, a gentle precipitation; sweet-smelling, light, and coating all it touches. It’s pukh.
Pukh is a downy fluff produced by female poplar trees, not unlike the blossom fluff produced by sallows; I noticed today the Owen Street in Darlaston was coated with fuff. I’ve seen it before – Pitsford Street in the Jewellery Quarter used to be swept with clouds of the stuff in a good year, but rarely as uniform and snow-like as this.
It’ll be interesting to see if the rains washed it away.
July 1st – Also on the canal, near Bentley Mill Way, flowering rushes in abundance. Of course, they’re not real rushes, but they are delightful flowers. A real joy to see them.
July 1st – The Pleck swans were cool in the heat this morning, although dad didn’t seem to be around. The youngsters are growing at a rate now.
Dem feet tho. That doesn’t look comfortable, but it must be. Always amused by it.
June 29th – Intrigued and saddened to see the Four Crosses pub in Shelfield – the last pub in the area, closed a few months ago – now up for sale as a ‘residential development site’.
Planning permission was granted some time ago to build a care home behind the pub and adjoining it; the developer recently tried to get the admission criteria loosened to allow those needing care additional to senior citizens to be admitted. Combined with the pub’s closure, there was a furore in the community and false rumours it was to be a drug, alcohol, mental health or bail hostel.
I would imagine that permission has been denied, or is not looking positive, despite rewording to exclude contentious groups, and the developer has decided to cut their losses and sell.
The building was granted meaningless Asset of Community Value status and a petition raised, too. Both have proven now to be pointless. From a development that looked like it may retain the pub, it now looks likely the building might be lost altogether under more housing.
At the heart of this is a basic truth nobody seems prepared to face: you cannot force people to keep running a business they don’t want to. It’s the huge elephant in the room that sits unspoken in many debates about the future of once-great pubs like this one.
A cautionary tale hangs here, I think. I shall watch with interest.
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